


Static

by CorvusCorvidae



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, F/F, Forbidden Love, could be more angsty? I'm working on it, not my usual style of angst, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-27 12:29:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5048599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorvusCorvidae/pseuds/CorvusCorvidae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dating your friends’ exes was never a good idea; Raven needs to remember that, and Lexa isn't helping any.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Static

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr request for Lexa/Raven angst - thank you for that, hope this is a good start. Although, I do feel it could have been more tortured, as it were.

Dating your friends’ exes was never a good idea. It was a rule breaker, to some. Forbidden. Against every code of friendship passed down from friend to friend. You knew that. You knew that better than most. You knew how much it hurt to have your best friend date your ex. So why, of all the girls out there, you had to develop a curiosity towards Lexa Woods was beyond you.

Clarke would never forgive you. Never.

You’d been there when Clarke came home, eyes red raw, voice gravelly, and heart broken. You’d held her hair while she vomited in the toilet from crying too much. You’d held her hand on the couch, comforting her while watching Netflix. You’d held her at night, as she sobbed into your chest, clinging to your for dear life, because she was in pieces, floating away into the abyss of heartbreak.

You’d watched as she put herself back together, piece by piece; making the steps to look presentable, cutting her hair, buying new clothes, purging her old life and her old routine. She went running with Octavia on Saturday mornings, took night classes with Lincoln, started painting again in her spare time, and you were so proud of her.

You were even prouder when she handled her first social event, where Lexa was present, and didn’t get too rat arsed. It was grown up, it was sensible, Clarke Griffin, who didn’t need to pine for her ex.

That had been over a year ago, and things were vastly different now, so maybe, maybe that made it better. Clarke had moved on, again, and again, and again, and was happy, and she was friends with Lexa! So it wasn’t like you were slipping into Lexa’s bed five seconds after Clarke had left it.

Yet, all the reasonings in the world most likely weren’t going to make this any better.

It would have been easier if you could blame their break up on Lexa.If you could hate her, you wouldn’t be in this mess. Like Finn. If Lexa had been life Finn, neither Clarke nor yourself would ever have to worry.

But Lexa wasn’t like Finn. Lexa was faithful, monogamous. She was steadfast in her convictions, although aloof, but not cold. Despite holding Clarke while she wept for the love lost, you knew Lexa was no doubt curled up on Anya’s couch, doing something similar.  She had so much to give, so much care and love and you were finding yourself wanting to be on the end of it.

It hadn’t started like this. Lexa had never been appealing. She was Clarke’s, to start with. Then she was a friend, and that friendship ran deeper than their breakup. It was tricky to manage at first, but now, it was nothing.

Or it had been nothing. Now it was actually something.  

Now you were past the point of return.

The first moment you knew you were in trouble, Lexa was standing in Octavia and Lincoln’s flat, celebrating their first home. She wasn’t doing anything particularly exciting, if you’re being honest. She was just leaning against the counter, heels crossed in front of her, hands on the worktop, and looking at the space.

You were lonely, you hadn’t been laid in weeks, and it had been even longer since you last had a proper interest in someone. But, seeing Lexa, standing there, poised, calm, and giving you a small smile as you came to join her, it sent a flutter in your chest, and had you honing in on her gaze.

Clarke always said Lexa’s eyes showed her soul, and at the time, you’d laughed your ass off and claimed she was high on love. It wasn’t funny now. It might have been dead accurate.

“Nice place,” Lexa remarked, nodding towards the door, and you found your throat dry.

“Yeah, nice.” That earned a quizzical smirk, and you shook your head, knowing how ridiculous you sounded. “About time they got somewhere together, it was getting a bit crowded at our place,” you added, changing the subject.

“That’s right,” she nodded, as if remember your living arrangements. “You should have said something, it’s not exactly fun being the fifth wheel, and I have a spare room.”

“You’d have let me crash there?” Why so hopeful?

“If your roommates didn’t need your rent money, you could move in.” She said it so offhandedly, as you’d expect from a friend helping a friend out, but it felt like there was more not being said. Or, that could have been because you were looking at her lips as she spoke.

“Come on you two, we’re going to get takeout,” Octavia called, sticking her head round the door, and that was the moment over.

Back to reality.

That was the first of many where Lexa made you feel….something for her. She wasn’t flirting, she wasn’t being overly kind, or doing anything out of the ordinary. It was as if one day you’d just woken up and taken off your ‘this-is-your-best-friend’s-ex’ glasses, and realised all the potential there was with Lexa.

From that point on, every group outing together, you found yourself drawn to her. It would be the two of you walking at the back of the group, or sitting together, or sharing looks. Subtle was Lexa’s middle name, that you were sure, because no one noticed the difference.

You even began to wonder if Lexa felt the difference, or were you making it all up in your head.

That thought sat with you for weeks on end, and you found a few warm bodies to help destroy it, but they didn’t help. Nothing was replicating that charge you felt when Lexa was there.

And to make matters worse, you couldn’t talk to your friends about it. What were you to say?

‘By the way, Clarke, I think I’m developing feelings for your ex’ or maybe even ‘Clarke, I’m really into Lexa, and am going to ask her out, but don’t get mad because remember when you slept with my boyfriend before we knew each other? This kinda makes us even’.

Yeah. Those would go down like a lead balloon.

So you kept it to yourself; and you relished in those moments where it was just the two of you. Like when Anya had invited everyone round for dinner. The meal was over, the food was gone, and everyone was crowded round her dining table, setting up some game they wanted to play.

There was one person missing, however, and you couldn’t stop yourself from going to find her. That’s who you were now, you were the girl who looked for their crush in a room full of people. You were that bad, that pathetic.

It didn’t feel bad, or pathetic, when you found her, though.

Lexa was sitting in Anya’s spare room, which was made out as an office. She’d taken one side of the couch, and instead of joining her, you sat in the leatherbound office chair.

“Hard day?” you grinned, nodding at the glass of whiskey in her hand. It was stronger than the beer that was typically stocked in her fridge, that was for sure.

Plus, her eyes, her gaze, they spoke of tension, exhaustion, and it was clear she’d only come tonight because she felt obliged, not because she wanted to be there.

“Had better,” Lexa answered, reaching for the bottle and giving it a shake, seeing if you wanted any. No thank you.

“Want to talk about it?” you offered, getting comfortable.

“Not really.” Lexa took another sip and then set the tumblr down on the side table, before turning her eyes to you.

You waited, knowing there was more.

“Would you mind just…” she paused, as if uncertain, and you finished it for her.

“Just?”

“Just talk to me? Your voice...you...your company is appreciated.” It started so open, and slowly moved to being formal, to doubts about what could be said, to shutting it all down and sticking with the bare facts.

“Sure, I can do that.” Lexa gave you a thankful smile, as she settled back into the couch, listening as you went to talk about your work, moaning about your co-workers, telling her stories of some of the stranger prototypes you’d had to work on, and it was the most open and honest conversation you’d had with her. Even though, it was only about work.

Leaving that night, it had you feeling warm, like the whiskey, and your mind was on the way she looked at you, the way she watched you as you spoke, and God, you were in deep.

You kept falling, against your own volition.

Maybe at the point, you could have picked yourself up and moved on, forgetting about Lexa. Maybe at that point, you could have shut it down, and made it a well crafted fantasy. Maybe at that point, you could have turned back.

And then Lexa made it so that was never going to be possible.

“Do you want to get out of her?” her voice was low, husky, as she stood behind you at the bar, close, speaking directly into your ear. Although you were about to place another order for drinks, the way she spoke, the closeness of her, it had you nodding. She had your coat in hand, and leaving your friends back at the bar, the two of you headed out.

You followed her, allowing her to lead the way, and only after crossing two streets did it become clear you were going back to hers. There were no words, only looks, as you stopped at the lights, waiting to cross, and the feel of her hand in yours.

The alcohol in your system was everything you needed to make this seem like a good idea, to push down the voice in the back of your head telling you this was wrong. You’d listen to it later, later when Lexa wasn’t leading you up the front steps of her building, and then to her front door.

Keys in the lock, door open, lights on, door shut again, and then the two of you were left, alone, with the rest of the night ahead of you.

Lexa’s looked shy, her eyes fluttering from your lips, to making eye contact, to her hands, and then back to you. No doubt, you were no better, because you could feel the energy between you, it was palpable, that electrical charge, that spark that was going to go off any moment.

Static.

It was Lexa who made the first move. She wasn’t sudden or brisk, she moved slowly. One foot forward, stepping just that little bit closer, until she was in your comfort zone, and it felt comfortable having her there. You wanted her closer.

Breathing in, breathing out, you never broke eye contact as she raised her hand, cupping your neck, the side of your face, and you turned into her touch, because she was there, she was touching you, she felt this, too, and it was more than everything you’d imagined.

Next, Lexa’s forehead gently leant against your own, bringing those eyes closer, the air in your lungs, hers, and she was surrounding you in the best possible way.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you since…” Lexa admitted, quiet, and you closed your eyes, not able to take it anymore.

If you shut your eyes, maybe you could imagine this was someone else. Maybe you could forget whose lips were an inch from yours. Maybe reality would cease to exist.

“Lexa,” you uttered, slow, sounding broken, despite feeling in one piece.

“You feel this, too, I know you do,” she murmured, nuzzling into you, and you whined. You physically whined, because you wanted her, you wanted this, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t.

“Clarke would never forgive me.” It was the God’s honest truth, and she knew it, too.

“Clarke’s not here right now.” Oh, you knew that. You were well aware of that fact.

Opening your eyes again, you lost yourself in hers.

She wasn’t your type. She wasn’t the kind of girl you chased, pined for, or fell for. She wasn’t right. Standing there, though, felt right. It felt like that’s where you were meant to be. It felt like all those failed relationships failed because they didn’t make you feel an ounce of what you were feeling with her.

You finally were in love. You understood what the books, the movies, the romantics all spoke about.

It was a shame you fell in love with your best friend’s ex, however.

“She’ll never forgive me,” you repeated, stressing it this time, and Lexa let out the whine.

“So we’re not going to do this?” Her breath was hot, heavy, and you wanted to taste the whiskey on her lips.

“She’s my best friend.” You were being respectful. You were being noble. You were being the bigger person. And you hated it.  

“You deserve to be happy,” Lexa said, her eyes pleading, and you smiled.

“And you think you can do that?”

“I can,” she answered, voice unwavering, and god, it had you reaching out, hand on her shoulder, wanting to close the distance between your bodies.

“I can’t. I can’t be that friend.”

“Raven,” it was another plea, and you licked your lips, wondering if one lapse in judgement was really going to

But then, Clarke was sobbing, clutching a pillow to her chest, because she couldn’t clutch you. She was being sick from the tears. She was ignoring you, and moving out, and moving on, and you weren’t in her life.

She was your best friend, and that meant more.

“I can’t.” This time it was final, and you stepped back, pulling out of Lexa’s embrace.

She understood, she stepped further away, closing herself off, shutting down, and becoming formal.

“Do you wish for me to walk you back to the bar?” So regimented, Lexa stood at attention, awaiting orders.

“No thanks, I’m just going to get a cab home.” It would get you home quicker, and you weren’t in the mood to drink anymore.

You moved towards the door, opening it like you had a hundred times, although knowing that this time was different. Once you closed that door, with you on the other side, there would be no going back.

Lexa wasn’t going to offer herself up like that again.

You were giving this up. You were giving her up, before you even had a chance.

The finality of the door closing behind you had your hands shaking, and you left, as quick as you’d come, hailing the first taxi possible.

Your apartment was empty when you came home, and for that you were glad. It meant you could go in the shower, unhindered with questions, and let the tears you’d been holding in, fall.

No one would know. No one would ever need know.

Especially not Clarke.

Lexa had been an almost, a ‘what if’, but never a something, never tangible. You’d known from the start she’d never be possible. She was off limits. No matter what.

And if that meant pretending that your heartache was a sick bug, you’d do it. Your friends had no reason to suspect otherwise, so didn’t. They put it down to you working too hard, playing too little, and even tried to set you up on a few dates. They cared for you, like you for them.

And when you saw Lexa again, you acted like nothing was new. You acted like you hadn’t been in her arms, so close to those lips, seeing into her soul. She acted much the same, but gave you a wider berth.

No one suspected a thing.

And it was easy to think, as the months went on, that it had all been silly, a fantasy the two of you had concocted because you were both lonely. It was easy to believe you hadn’t cared for her the way you had. It was easy, until it wasn’t.

You might have been able to push it away, try and forget, and ignore it all, but there was one thing, one reminder that your attraction to Lexa hadn’t dwindled, hadn’t been dealt with, and hadn’t died.

When standing too close, or alone, there was that undercurrent. It started in your toes and travelled up your legs, straight up your spine, and then back down to your fingertips. It hung in the air between you both, charged and ready.

Static.

It was the lasting reminder, of all that you’d had, of all that you’d felt, but also the lasting reminder of all that you’d lost.

If you let it discharge, Clarke would never forgive you; and that was the only reminder you needed.

*0*0*

 

 


End file.
